


On The Good Ship Leverage

by Mizzy



Category: Firefly, Leverage, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fusion, Non-Linear Narrative, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, leveragexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(0.) Nate Ford is in a bar on U-day, looking for a celebratory drink. <br/>(1.) Maybe Sophie isn't her name. Because what name could mean something like <i>as necessary as air</i> anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Good Ship Leverage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alinaandalion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinaandalion/gifts).



> Starting to archive some of the fic that never made it from livejournal to AO3. Sorry if you've seen this before! :)

0.

Nate Ford is in a bar on U-day, looking for a celebratory drink.  
  
This isn't an unusual thing: Commander Blackpoole likes to ensure his men _do_ celebrate U-day if they're not working, for morale purposes.  
  
Something else which isn't unusual: some Browncoats, spoiling for a fight.  
  
Nate gets taken down by the wildest of the bunch, a guy with long hair and a powerful right fist.  
  
"If I find out who you are," Nate gasps as the guy ties him to a chair, and pummels him again in the stomach.  
  
"My name's Eliot," the guy tells him. "For all the luck that'll do you."  
  
"I have connections, but I am kind of lacking on luck," Nate admits. Eliot just laughs, and tugs Nate's Alliance-issue cap to a jaunty angle.  
  
"Shiny hat," Eliot says, and punches him again.  
  
Nate would mumble _"Good guys wear hats_ " if his face wasn't too swollen for speech.  
  


1.

  
It's like watching a brutal, bloody ballet.  
  
As far as Nate knows from his years with the Alliance, it's never been done. Not by one man.  
  
Eliot moves like an animal, taking down thirty Reavers as easy as breathing.  
  
At the end, Nate just nods. They'll never speak of this day again. They understand each other perfectly.  
  
If you deny that you have a monster inside of you, sometimes that monster stays asleep for just a little longer.  
  


0.

  
Nate likes to save up his Alliance shore leave, even if Maggie can't spend it with him. It means he can get drunk and _not_ have to go through a painful synthetic sped-up hangover in order to be alert enough for work the next day. He can spend a week on a border planet, getting completely _máo táo_ and then spend a couple of days _naturally_ regretting it.  
  
Before him, a beautiful woman sways in front of the fire, her curves and dance moves sensual and inviting. Her brown hair comes alive in the moonlight, and her dark eyes are locked to his face like he's the most interesting thing in the 'verse.  
  
When she sways towards him, one of her hands tangles in his hair.  
  
"I'm Cinnamon," she tells him, and tries to slip a garland of flowers over his head.  
  
For a moment, he considers it, and then sadly pushes her away. Maggie and he married on this planet, and he knows the marital laws.  
  
"Nice try, but I'm already married," he tells her, tiredly. "Go scam someone else."  
  
Instead of giving up, she presses her body closer to his. She's not wearing much beneath her shift dress. "Are you sure?" she purrs near his ear. "We could have some fun."  
  
"Before you turn around and screw me?" Nate eyeballs her, his breath a warm fog of sour _huangjiu_ against her skin. "Not unless you're up for giving me your _real_ name, sweetheart."  
  
'Cinnamon' purses her pretty lips. "I don't know what you mean."  
  
Later, he sees Cinnamon attempt the same rigmarole on one of the other planet locals. Nate just turns the other way. It's not his problem if other men want to fall to a fallacious siren call.  
  


1.

  
Dressed in one of the frilly lace dresses, Sophie almost looks like any of the Heart of Gold whores. She's showing too much leg, actually—a real whore would never show so much of the goods for sale. The tease is supposed to be half the sell.  
  
Still, maybe Nate just knows way too much about whores, because when Sophie saunters around the corner—playing  _oops, stupid lady_ so that she doesn't get shot on sight, the guy lowers his gun for a moment and smirks. So really, who's the idiot in this situation?  
  
"What's the sitch, Joell," the idiot man's partner yells from around the corner, voice husky and labored. The Leverage crew's been putting up quite the fight with the other ladies, and Rance Burgess' men weren't expecting it and aren't in good enough shape for a real fight.  
  
"Just some stupid whore," Joell starts. He draws in a breath, probably to outline his plans, but that's when Sophie knocks him out. There's the sound of a weapon being charged, and Nate follows her around the corner just in time to see Joell's partner hit the ground too.  
  
When Sophie looks back at him, her eyes drifting to finger-sized bruises on Nate's neck, spaced apart in the exact same shape as Tara's hand, she looks like she might shoot him too.  
  
It wouldn't be the first time.  
  


0.

  
Normally Nate's work is to secure whichever space-based facility he's assigned to. His usual assignation is to the Alliance Station _IYS_. Sometimes, though, he's sent to one of the Core planets to guard some Alliance high-up's home.  
  
 _Normally_ it's all rather dull work, but this time, Nate's running down the main boulevard, chasing the fancily spoken companion who said she needed to leave a message for the senator. What she apparently _wanted_ was to thieve the Lassiter model worth more credits than Nate would ever see in his life if he worked 'til retirement.  
  
The companion, when Nate corners her, pulls off her fancy headpiece as she clutches the gun, and Nate inhales, hard.  
  
"Cinnamon," he gasps, and grabs the Lassiter from her, throwing it into the corner. It's been a year since the desert planet where she tried to seduce him, but he remembers her. And if he's thought of her a few times while in Maggie's arms, well. That's between him and the Black.  
  
"Actually," she says, tilting her head arrogantly, "my name's Sophie."  
  
"Sure it is," Nate says.  
  
"Don't I _look_ like a Sophie?" She steps forwards. Nate swallows. She steps even closer to him.  
  
Except, she's not. She's stepping closer to the Lassiter. He makes a move to dive for it, and pain lances through his shoulder as she shoots him. She can't reach it in time now and she knows it, so she turns to run.  
  
Nate doesn't even pause as he shoots her in return. It's only fair.  
  
Sophie obviously doesn't agree, as she exhales, " _Sāohuò_." Nate takes the fact that she takes the opportunity to flee instead of coming back for seconds as a win.  
  


1.

  
Maybe Sophie isn't her name. Because what name could mean something like _as necessary as air_ anyway?  
  
Nate doesn't know who started the holding hands thing, but he's willing to continue it. He clings onto her. She anchors him, as fire reflects on his face, and in the Reaver graveyard, Blackpoole burns and burns.  
  


0.

  
"You say you're an engineer," Nate says, slowly.  
  
At the other end of the table, the young man that Nate's systems tell him is Hardison, Alec, formerly of Persephone, with a history of being _seen_ at several unsavory scenes, but no formal record of arrest.  
  
Nate recognizes the distinctive slouch of Hardison comma Alec. He's either used to money, or he's used to not getting caught by the law.  
  
"If that what it says on my file, brah, I suppose it must be true," Hardison croons. He drums his fingers on the table. "What _does_ my file say?"  
  
Nate narrows his eyes, then looks down at the tablet in his hands, and then tries not to double-take.  
  
"Guess it might be saying right now I'm a senator's son, somethin' hoity-toity, twinkle stars, credits galore-o, am I right?" Hardison finger guns Nate. "I'm hearing you let that kind of fella go." He smiles, his teeth the same color as the tables and the walls.  
  
His tablet beeps, and now it says, _Operative. Classified_.  
  
Nate sighs, and Hardison pumps the air. "I'mma guess I'm free to go," Hardison says, and lurches to his feet, almost strutting as he pushes his chair back under the table.  
  
Nate's tired, so tired. Ever since Sam he's been... _tired_. He can't even be bothered to stop Hardison, who's clearly hacking the system _somehow_. Nate of a time ago might have challenged it, double checked the fact.  
  
Nate of a time ago died in Ariel hospital with Sam.  
  
"Look," Hardison says, in a more serious tone as his hand hovers over the panel to let him out the room, "about your son—"  
  
"Get out before I shoot you," is what Nate wants to say, but he just _looks_ at Hardison, and lets all that fatigue and despair show for just a second.  
  
From the way Hardison recoils, and quietly leaves the room, it might be a slightly frightening expression.  
  


1.

  
"All right, we're in position," Nate says, flicking three keys above the pilot's seat, and anchoring his hands on the steering rig to keep them as still as possible. "Time to do your thing."  
  
"Roger _that_ ," Hardison croons from the other seat, fingers flying across his multiple custom-installed keyboards as he watches five different monitors at once. "We'll be gone before Adelai Niska even knows we're here, and _trust_ me that's a good thing."  
  
Nate just nods. There's an ugly scar on Hardison's neck that he never talks about, a scar Hardison touched when he explained Badger's job for them. Nate won't ask, repaying a favour from light years before, when Hardison didn't finish a sympathetic sentence that would have broken Nate's brain.  
  
"I don't get this heist," Parker says. She's sat on the arm of Nate's chair. He didn't even hear her _approach_. Whatever the hell the Academy did to that girl, it made her sneakier than Sam when he was sneaking around their apartment looking for his birthday presents.  
  
Nate's stomach twists, and he focuses on the job. He's glad his hands are occupied.  
  
"We should be stealing something _real,_ " Parker insists.  
  


0.

  
The thrum of the Alliance Ship _IYS_ is constant, a peaceful humming beneath Nate's feet. Commander Blackpoole's already retired for the night, and Lieutenant Sterling is on duty with Nate; it's shaping up to be a great night.  
  
They've even managed to sneak some moonshine from planetside, and drink it from the same tumbler, passing it to each other as they walk back in forth, eyes glued to the main viewscreen as they watch for potential danger.  
  
Unfortunately, their attention is entirely in the wrong direction: as they're staring at the screen, Blackpoole's favorite command chair vanishes. Poof. Like it was never there. Sterling and Nate stare at each other over the space it used to occupy.  
  
As Blackpoole screams blue murder at them in the morning, Nate squints at the fuzzy image of the blonde thief Parker on the screen. She's never been caught, and she's infamous. Mostly for being _crazy_. There's other whispers, too, that her crazy is the Alliance's fault, _that they cut into her brain,_ but Nate pushes those rumors aside.  
  
The Alliance isn't evil. No way.  
  
Blackpoole continues to scream insults at them for an hour. "Ugh," Sterling mutters to Nate. "It's nearly enough to turn a man to a life of crime."  
  


1.

  
So, Nate gets into a spot of trouble, and that's all so very typical, and he only gets stabbed a _little_ bit so Sophie should stop shouting at him.  
  
When he gets back to _Leverage,_ his crew are just lolling around. Laughing. As Parker and Badger appear to be _getting along_.  
  
It's... surreal.  
  
Both that, and the names. Badger. Parker. Not their real names, not at all. Their real names are long gone. People in the 'verse tend to pick new names, to let their past bleed into the Black.  
  
Nate doesn't change his name, because he won't let himself forget. He'll never let history repeat itself because it was too terrible the first time around.  
  


0.

 

"No," Blackpoole says.  
  
"What do you mean _no._ What—Bowden's disease is curable, we can just divert one shipment, they'll be fine, he'll be fine, we'll have a whole planet singing from the Alliance hymn sheet—"  
  
"I said no," Blackpoole says. He shrugs. "It's nothing personal. You didn't check the box in your Alliance registration papers to label Samuel Ford as your tertiary care wish. There's nothing I can do."  
  
There's more words. Most of them from Nate's side. Blackpoole blanks out, gets Nate thrown into a cell. Sterling is the one to put him in, and he stares at Nate through the clear, impenetrable glass with an inscrutable expression that Nate can identify.  
  
He can also identify with it. _Who are you?_ Nate doesn't know the answer either.  
  


1.

  
I just need _time,_ Sophie says, with her words _and_ her eyes.  
  
And despite Parker's scowling and Hardison's judging eyes and Eliot's folded arms, Nate lets her go.  
  
He lets her go.  
  


0.

  
The first time Sophie kisses him, the world spins. Nate's never felt anything like it. She kisses like she's the answer to a question he's always been asking.  
  
She pulls away, laughing, and Nate realizes why the world span when she kissed him.  
  
He touches his finger to the remains of lipstick on his mouth. Narcotic compound, spread over a seal on her lips. Of course.  
  
"I'll catch you one day and never let you go," he tells her, as he lets unconsciousness take him.  
  


1.

  
Nate's not quite sure what's going on. One minute, he was there to meet Cora and John McRory about a job; they've been getting desperate for jobs since losing Sophie. There's only so much a firefly-class vessel with a four-player crew can manage on their own.  
  
Hardison's hacked the footage, and he watches the event unfold again. _Super Happy Power Go!_ sings the song on the screens, and Parker goes mental. " _Miranda_ ," she breathes, before finally passing out.  
  
"Hey," Hardison says, pushing Nate to one side, "let's play the bit again where Eliot gets knocked out by 5 pounds of crazy in a 20 pounds bag _._ "  
  


0.

  
They're looking at a planet on the main viewscreen. It's beautiful. _Oh, brave new world,_ Nate thinks.  
  
"She's a beaut, isn't she?" Blackpoole says. He's pleased with himself, too much, or he wouldn't be spilling so much in front of one of his officers. "Miranda. It's where we're going to make people _better._ "  
  
(Years later, he will think, _what he meant was that they can make better people because they can't make people better or they would have made Sam better_ and it makes him feel sick.)  
  


1.

  
"Love. You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home." Nate pats the console and looks to gauge Parker's reaction.  
  
She's staring at him, a small smile beginning on her perfect face. "Maybe," Parker says, "maybe it's not just the boat you're talking about?"  
  
Nate swallows hard. "Maybe not," he allows.  
  
Parker grins.  
  


0.

  
The snow globe swings on the stick. Parker tilts her head and tries to chase it with her mouth. "This food is problematic," she whines.  
  
"There's something wrong with you," Eliot tells her.  
  


1.

  
In between the darkness of the cargo bay and the darkness of the Black, maybe he can speak the truth. Sophie is back, but for how long, how _long_.  
  
"Sometimes," Nate says, "things get broke, can't be fixed."  
  
Sophie shuffles in and holds him close. Maybe there's not a 'verse between them after all.  
  


0.

  
This is not the way Nate would have chosen to celebrate U-day, but it's kind of working anyway. Eliot's punching him, and Sam is dead, and Eliot is punching him—  
  
—it's just nice to _feel_ something again.  
  


1.

  
On the travel ship _San Lorenzo,_ Eliot took out thirty reavers. Here, on Miranda, there's ten times that number or more. The stench and fear of death is palpable on the air.  
  
Eliot counts through the gap, shakes his head, and counts again. "We might not all survive this time, Nate," he says.  
  


0.

  
Spending a lot of time on ships, and in mansions being a glorified security guard, has not given Nate a lot of time to spend with his son. So whatever time he does get, he tries to use to the max.  
  
"Hey, champ, what did you learn in school today?"  
  
Sam rolls his eyes, already seven and giving _all_ the attitude, but brings up a display on his desk. "We learned about computers, dad. How they're better now than they used to be. Back in the past, when the browncoats made computers, they made them so if one part broke, none of it would work."  
  
"Ah," Nate says, "like Firefly-class ships."  
  
Sam giggles. Ever since his first trip on a Firefly-class ship, where Sam threw up all over the captain, Sam's laughed so hard whenever anyone mocks a Firefly-class starship. "Alliance computers have redundancies in place," Sam says, and he's so _smart_. Maggie's even talking about a special school, an Academy to foster his gifts, but Nate's not so sure. If his little boy goes to a boarding school, he'll _never_ get to see Sam.  
  
"See, dad," Sam tells Nate. "Even if you break one hub, the Alliance keeps the network going. You can't stop the signal."  
  
"Just like you can't stop my love for you," Nate says, nuzzling Sam's hair. Sam bats his hands away, but burrows into Nate's arms happily. Nate smiles down at his perfect son. He's the luckiest guy in the world.  
  


1.

  
The odds are against them. Only luck will save their lives, but determination... Well, that might make the 'verse _right._ Nate has to get the message out.  
  
"You can't stop the signal," Nate says, low and firm.  
  
"Okay," Eliot says, and starts to fight.  
  


0.

  
Sterling is wearing a different hat the next time Nate sees him. Persephone's dirtier quadrant isn't quite where he _expects_ to see his old Alliance partner-in-crime. Especially when Nate's expecting to find some low-level crime lord named Badger in this tent. He paid a good two credits for the directions, dammit.  
  
"Sterling," Nate says, and if his voice cracks, no one calls him on it. Any word from his past is difficult to say.  
  
"Actually it's Badger now," Sterling—Badger—says. He grins a crooked grin. There's a tooth missing. No Alliance dental care in _this_ part of civilization.  
  
Nate narrows his eyes. " _You're_ a bad guy now?"  
  
"Pots and kettles," Sterling— _Badger_ —says. "Don't be all hoity-toity, and—"  
  
"Pretentious," Hardison supplies, helpfully. Nate side-eyes him, hard.  
  
"Yeah," Badger says. "We're both from the exact same place, Nathan Ford. Remember that. Besides..." He throws something. Nate looks down at the tumbler he's automatically caught. "We're all the heroes of our own story, right?" Badger adjusts his very fine hat, and Nate just twists his mouth. The 'verse keeps getting stranger and stranger.  
  


1.

  
They're all hurt, except for Parker. Badly hurt. But they're alive, and that's a currency none of them can steal.  
  
"I think we saved the day," Nate grunts, wincing as he touches one of his wounds and his fingers come back sticky red. "What does that make us?"  
  
"Big damn heroes," Sophie wheezes.  
  
"Ain't we just," Eliot agrees.  
  


0.

  
The war has been on for so long, and apparently they've won.  
  
But Ensign Nathan Ford, his Alliance uniform crumpled and stained, doesn't feel like this is a win. There's so many bodies, on both sides. Friends, stacked up like a wall, as far as the eye can see. The appalling things they had to do (explosives in apples the _least_ of it) that were beyond decency, just for the Alliance to _win_.  
  
Nate tears off his cross and throws it bitterly into the graveyard of Serenity Valley.  
  
The Alliance won, but it doesn't feel like a win. It feels like humanity lost everything.  
  
There can be no God in this 'verse. No God would have let this happen.  
  
Humanity has lost _everything_. Nate's faith feels like a graze of a casualty; a fart in the gorram wind.  
  


1.

  
I might have stayed, Sophie says, as she leaves. If you'd had more faith in us.  
  
Nate stares. When he goes to hide (brood, grieve) in her now-abandoned shuttle, he finds a box of her things, and if he cries into them, that's between him and the Black.  
  


0.

  
Maggie leaves, and Nate barely notices. He hands in his Alliance notice, and hangs up his hat.  
  
Good guys don't wear hats.  
  
Bad guys do.  
  


1.

  
The boy on Father Paul's decimated planet, the boy _dead_ because Nate stayed here just _once_ , the boy who died in  _flames_ because of _Nate_...  
  
...he's Sam age.  
  
 _He was Sam's age_.  
  
So when they trail the Reavers behind them, when they _feed_ the Alliance fleet to the Reavers, and the _IYS_ —Blackpoole's ship—is front and center, Nate feels nothing but a glorious satisfaction. Sophie takes his hand and holds him steady. The  _Leverage_ flies away safely, with Blackpoole dying far, far behind them.  
  


0.

  
The ship is a little bit of a wreck.  
  
"It smells like something died in here," Eliot insists, his upper lip curling in disgust. Nate just smiles. It kinda does, but... he could maybe fall in love with this ship.  
  
After years of thinking his heart was too broken to even function, well...  
  
It's a start.


End file.
